


Picking Up the Pieces

by Rachel Wilder (rwilder)



Series: Pieces Series [1]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-07
Updated: 1999-09-07
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:36:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3527927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rwilder/pseuds/Rachel%20Wilder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder and Scully's weekend get away on the Appalachian Trail turns tragic, challenging everything about them including their relationship and their very existence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picking Up the Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks goes to Jo-Ann Lassiter. As a first-timer I approached beta reading with great trepidation, but you made it a rewarding and totally non-threatening experience. This story would not have grown to what it is today without your help! Additional thanks to my faithful reader and fellow writer, Tey. Thanks to my roommate Martha for her Appalachian Trail knowledge and for letting me borrow her dad.

Picking up the Pieces  
November 6, 1998  
Shenandoah National Park  
Near Waynesboro, VA  
10 a.m.  
  
"Mulder, whose idea of a fun get away is this?" Scully asked as she shut the trunk of her partner's car. When he had suggested a weekend away from DC, it had sounded inviting to her. Since their return from Antarctica and reassignment Mulder had been pretty depressed. It had been a bit of a shock to realize that although the X-files had been reopened, other agents would be doing the investigating. He had acted so strangely about it. He wouldn't talk about, in fact he wouldn't discuss anything. Not their near kiss, not their experience on the ice sheet; it was like the last five years had never even happened. The fact that he would suggest doing anything outside of work and the thought of a mountain cabin and a nice relaxing tub had sounded inviting when he broached the idea of the Appalachian mountains. Little did she know he meant the Appalachian mountains literally, like hiking the Appalachian trail.  
  
"C'mon Scully, I know you live for the idea of getting back to nature," he responded in a teasing tone as he zipped up his Goretex jacket. At this higher elevation it was much cooler than the weather in the Capital and Mulder was glad he had put on a layer of thermal underwear under his jeans and turtle neck.  
  
"Not this far back," she muttered under her breath as she struggled to pull her pack over the slippery material of her own jacket.  
  
"What did you say?" he asked as he tried to assist her. She pointedly stepped away from him and gave him a withering glance as she finished arranging the straps of the back pack.  
  
"Let's get going. I want to get this tent set up before it gets dark," he said, heading for the trail entrance.  
  
"Tent? One tent? Isn't that in violation of some kind of ordinance?" she asked.  
  
"First of all, we are on a vacation so FBI protocol does not apply here. Second, two tents to sleep in are two tents to carry. As long as you stay in your sleeping bag and I stay in mine, we'll do just fine, Agent Scully." He picked up the remaining pack. "Quit your complaining and get those legs moving. You'll be having fun before you know it."  
  
"Sure, Mulder," she responded again under her breath as she followed him onto the trail. Her partner moved ahead of her unaware of her mood.  
  
After they had been hiking steadily for several hours, Mulder came to a stop and dropped the pack off his shoulders.  
  
"Drink of water?" he asked, offering Scully his canteen. She reached for it without speaking.  
  
"I don't know what kind of Indian guide fantasy you think you're reliving, but may I ask where this campsite is?" she asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.  
  
"It's not much further, but before I go any further I think I'm going to take a quick tour of the woods," he answered, leaning his pack against a tree. He quickly disappeared into the brush.  
  
Scully pulled her pack off as well and sat leaning against a nearby tree. Once again she was reminded of the gross unfairness of the human anatomy. She tried not to think about it. Once they got to the campsite, maybe there would be some kind of facilities.  
  
"Mulder?" she said, surprised to hear footsteps behind her. November wasn't a terribly popular time for hiking, especially during the week, and the trail had been quite deserted.  
  
She turned to see a strange man staring at her. He wasn't a big person, a few inches shorter than Mulder with dirty blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. He had a full beard that looked unkempt. There was something unsettling about him, something that made Scully very nervous.  
  
"Can I help you?" she asked.  
  
"I hope so, little missy. What've you got in those packs?" he probed in a rather threatening tone.  
  
Scully slowly reached into her waistband for her service weapon. Damn! She had planned a trip to a mountain spa, not being threatened on a deserted section of the Appalachian trail; she had left her gun at home.   
  
"I'm not sure what you want sir, but my friend is going to be back in a moment," she responded in a slow and deliberate tone. Where was Mulder?  
  
"Is this the friend you were looking for?" a second man, older than the first, his brown hair streaked with gray, emerged from the woods pointing a gun at Mulder. Shorter than the blond man, he also had an unwashed look, as if he had spent a significant amount of time in the mountains. He shoved the young man toward his partner.  
  
The first man bound Scully's hand tightly while the second man held his gun on Mulder. She mentally pleaded with Mulder to make a break for it, but she knew he would never leave her behind. Her captor finished with the ropes, cutting the circulation from her hands. She had initially struggled, but his strength was too great and she knew further efforts would be futile. She tried to work the ropes against each other, but her captor had done a good job.  
  
He quickly bound Mulder's hands in the same fashion. He turned to listen as his partner spoke again. "I found a gun on that one, Del. I think he's some kind of police. They don't give this stuff to just anybody." He passed Mulder's service weapon over to the younger man.  
  
Mulder looked at Scully, trying to reassure her.  
  
"He caught me with my pants down . . . literally," Mulder said under his breath.  
  
"Hey, you two, shut up," Del said. He turned back to the older man and they continued to confer.  
  
"So, any great ideas?" Scully asked quietly.  
  
"I don't suppose you packed a little heat for the trip?" Mulder responded.  
  
"No, I didn't bring my weapon. The question is, why did you? I thought this was a pleasure trip."  
  
"What can I say? Old habits die hard." Mulder looked carefully at the two men. "I saw an alert about two survivalists who had last been sighted in the mountains of North Carolina. They're suspected in a number of abortion clinic bombings throughout the region. I don't suppose they would have made it this far north?"  
  
"I remember the briefing on the case. Well, if that's who they are I think the prospects are getting pretty dim unless we figure something out fast," Scully answered, looking over at him.  
  
"Well, we could make a run for it, but that clip is full and I don't think my inability to shoot straight is the fault of the gun," Mulder responded with a wry grin.  
  
It was amazing, Scully thought. Here they were, being held at gunpoint by two men who quite possibly were making plans to kill them and Mulder was making jokes.  
  
"Quit talking!" Del shouted at them. He gestured with his gun toward a small trail Scully hadn't even noticed when they had stopped earlier. "Move!"  
  
The two FBI agents stumbled down the narrow trail. With their hands bound their centers of gravity were disturbed and it was difficult to keep their balance. Del seemed to be calling the shots. He appeared to be in his late 20s. Mulder assumed that this was William "Del" Delton who had recently been named to the FBI's Ten Most Wanted list. A vast manhunt was being conducted for him in his native North Carolina. There had been no indication that he would be so far north nor working with an accomplice. He was considered armed and dangerous, thought to be very unstable. He was wanted for questioning in a string of nine abortion clinic bombings throughout the South  
  
His partner was older, maybe in his late 40s. He was also rough-looking with a beard. Mulder thought he had heard Del call the man Beau, but he wasn't sure. In addition to being older, Beau seemed to also not be in very good shape. Mulder could hear him panting as they moved along the path.  
  
Finally after about an hour of hiking into the dense forest of the Appalachian Mountains, Del gestured for the two agents to stop.   
  
"We'll set up here for the night. Get your tents out."  
  
The agents quickly set up their tent, loading their gear inside. Del had unbound their hands, keeping his gun trained on them the entire time they were putting the tent up. His oversight of not looking in their packs made Mulder wish he had packed more carefully. Unfortunately the bags only contained clothing and food supplies.  
  
"Get in there and stay quiet," their captor said, gesturing with his gun. Scully followed Mulder as he climbed into the small tent. They quickly settled onto the hard ground, their sleeping bags providing little padding.  
  
"So, any ideas there, sport?" she asked quietly.  
  
"Well, Del is known to be an avid outdoors man. I don't know as much about this Beau, but he must be Del's cousin, Beaufort Delaney. He was mentioned in the case file briefly, but there was no indication that he would be in the wilderness with Del."  
  
"Case file? How much do you know about this, Mulder?" she asked, looking more intently at him. She had seen that look before. "You knew about this, didn't you?"  
  
"Whatever do you mean, Agent Scully?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.  
  
"You did! You knew about this! How could you, Mulder?"  
  
"How could I what? After all the things we've seen, what we've experienced we're monitoring investment scams! What is that? I guess I figured if we caught one of the FBI's ten most wanted, they would have to let us work where we want."  
  
"I can't believe you fell for that! That whole 'catch the biggest bad guy, write your own ticket' story is just that, a story, an urban legend. I thought you were smarter than that, Mulder." She had no idea that he was this desperate. He wasn't the Mulder she knew, the one she had spent nearly six years risking her life for and with. This was a desperate man who wasn't thinking straight. She tried to control her anger, she would need to have the balance of all of her faculties to get them both out of this mess.  
  
"I had to do something. I couldn't just sit there anymore," Mulder said quietly.  
  
"Yeah, well if that was your great idea, you could have let me in on it. Maybe instead of sitting in a tent under the watchful eye of two psychopaths we'd actually be apprehending these two. Did you think of that?"  
  
"No, but I did think of the fact that about three years ago I started wearing a second gun," Mulder responded.  
  
"So, you have got your second gun?" she asked, her eyebrow cocked. He leaned down and pulled his pant leg up to expose a small hand gun securely attached.  
  
"I love you, Fox Mulder!" she exclaimed, kissing his forehead. She quickly pulled back, slightly embarrassed. They pulled closer and quietly began discussing their plans for an escape.  
  
November 7, 1998  
Appalachian Trail  
6:30 a.m.  
  
"Could you loosen these for a minute?" Scully asked raising her bound hands up. Del had come in to wake the agents a few moments earlier. They had discussed their escape plans late into the night, only falling asleep after they felt assured of a reasonable chance at success.  
  
"I don't think so, missy," Del responded with a sneer.  
  
"I'm feeling the call of nature; can you please . . . " she asked again raising her hands. Del looked at Beau and shrugged. Beau moved to untie her hands.  
  
"Just remember, missy, straight into the woods and back. I'll have a close eye on your partner here if anything happens to you," Del answered.  
  
Scully shook her hands free of the ropes. There were visible marks where it had bitten into her wrists. She exchanged a glance with Mulder. His nod was imperceptible.  
  
"You hurry back now, missy. We've got big plans for you," Beau called after her. He and Del both laughed while Mulder looked visibly upset. She moved quickly into the brush. As soon as she got about 15 feet away, she heard a commotion. There were two quick shots and then a moment later, a third one. She was unable to tell if Mulder was successful in getting away, but she started running anyway. As difficult as it was to leave him, she knew in her head that Del and Beau were going to kill them. She had to  
take this opportunity to get away and hope that Mulder was able to do the same.  
  
She had gotten about 40 yards down the trail when she heard feet behind her and then the familiar hand at the small of her back. She panted slightly as the exertion and thinner air caught up with her.  
  
"Are they behind us?" she asked, gasping slightly.  
  
"Not too far. I hit Beau; he might be dead, I didn't stop to check, but I only winged Del," Mulder responded.  
  
"What was the third shot?" she asked.  
  
"It's just a flesh wound," was his answer. She stopped dead and gave him a concerned look.  
  
"What do you mean, a flesh wound?" she asked. He showed her his arm. The bullet had just grazed his arm. She pulled a strip of cloth from her shirt and quickly dressed the wound. They had to get moving.  
  
The agents kept running while listening for feet behind them. Mulder took the lead as they headed deeper into the forest. Finding their way out would be their second problem. Losing Del was the first problem.  
  
They were fairly certain they had lost their captors, but they had also lost the trail. They would have to be more careful. The Blue Ridge may not be the tallest range of mountains, but they were still very isolated and full of wildlife.  
  
Their flight had taken them onto a path along the ridge. It had been a wet autumn and the ground was eroded in areas. They moved as quickly as possible, Mulder in the lead. Scully looked at the hindside of her partner. It seemed like he was always in the lead. She felt her resentment growing as they moved down the path until her partner suddenly disappeared in front of her.  
  
The ground seemed to fall out from underneath Mulder's feet. Before he knew it, he was falling, first through the air and then against the mountainside. He grabbed out at trees and roots as he rolled further down the hill. Finally, after an eternity he came to a stop.  
  
"Mulder?" he heard Scully call out. "Mulder, where are you?"  
  
"Scully," he called weakly. "I'm down here, but be careful. It's slippery and . . ." he couldn't continue, the fall had knocked the wind out of him and he was finding it hard to speak. He could hear Scully making her way down the side of the mountain. He gingerly moved testing for broken bones and other injuries. The salty taste in his mouth belied the bitten tongue and cheek. The ribs felt bruised, but not broken. He moved his arms; they seemed okay. He moved onto his legs. They didn't hurt, but they didn't move either. He concentrated again . . . nothing.  
  
"Mulder? Oh god, Mulder. What have you done this time?" Scully asked as she knelt down beside him.  
  
"It's bad. I . . . Scully, I can't move my legs," Mulder said, looking at her, his eyes filled with fear.  
  
Scully made her best attempt to examine him without moving him. His fall had been stopped by a large oak tree which most likely had caused his injury. She would have to move him. It was getting cold and if they stayed here, they would die of exposure.  
  
"Mulder, I'm going to try to lay you down flat. I can't tell without an x-ray, but you probably slammed into this tree pretty hard." She lifted his shirt where she could already see a bruise forming. She pulled the shirt down and carefully lay him down on his back, working carefully to keep his spine in alignment. "I'm going to try not to hurt you any further, but I've got to get you out of here somehow. I'm going to go look for a way out of here."  
  
It seemed like forever until Mulder heard her come sliding back down the hillside. Despite Scully's admonitions, he pulled his arm up and checked his watch. She had been gone for almost three hours. Where had she gone and what had she found? Scully reappeared with the remnants of a tarp and two long tree limbs.  
  
"What is this Scully?" Mulder asked, looking at her new-found treasure with a wary glance.  
  
"I found a hike hut a few miles back. The trail is about 500 feet above us. There was nothing else in there except some wooden bunks. I suppose we should try to take shelter there. I thought I could use the tarp to fashion some kind of litter and maybe pull you out of here." She paused.  
  
"Scully, how can we. . . ."  
  
" Mulder, we have to get up on the trail again. The only way we're ever going to get you out of here is to get back on the path and hope a ranger comes along. I'm just not sure we'll be able to get back up this incline. I don't want to risk further injury, but I can't leave you here."  
  
"So I'm pretty much trusting my life to a combination of MacGyver and Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman." Mulder's laugh turned into a cough.  
  
"Oh Mulder, please tell me you don't have broken ribs. I really don't want to have to deal with a collapsed lung too," Scully said in a mock-exasperated tone. She was trying to prevent him from realizing how dire the circumstances were. She didn't think she would be able to get him up to the trail, and the chances his spinal cord injury wouldn't be permanent grew slimmer every time she jostled him.  
  
"What are you doing watching Dr. Quinn anyway?" she teased.  
  
"Hey, a guy can't watch porn 24 hours a day," he responded in a like manner. "Besides, what else do you think I do on Saturday nights; stay at home watching Cops?"  
  
"You could try reading some literature or going to cultural events. It's a shame to live so close to the Kennedy Center and never go to any concerts."  
  
"I think that chamber music is more your speed than mine," Mulder answered. He turned his head to watch her assemble the litter.  
  
"Don't turn your head, Mulder!" she said sharply. "I don't know where your injury is; you should move as little as possible."  
  
"So, this is probably bad, isn't it?" he asked, trying to hold his neck still.  
  
She couldn't meet his eyes, working in silence assembling the litter. She pulled the laces from Mulder's boots and laced them through the holes in the tarp. She looked at the ancient tarp and hoped it would hold its precious load. She had tried to pull the wood from the built-in beds in the hike hut, but without the proper tools there was no way to get them apart.  
  
She pulled his belt off, moving him carefully so as to not injure him further. "We have no way of knowing what's happening until we can get out of here and have you examined. Let's just worry about getting out of here," she said as she pulled the litter over.  
  
"I'm not sure how this is going to work," she said as she laid the litter next to him. She carefully placed his legs on it and then, trying to keep his spine aligned, she moved his torso. Mulder groaned slightly from the pain.  
  
"I'm sorry. Did that hurt?" Scully asked as she moved next to him.  
  
"Just a little; don't worry. So, now what?" he asked.  
  
"Well, we get up this hill and then we find the trail. I have to get you out of here, Mulder. You need to be in a hospital."  
  
She used the ends of the laces to make a harness with the belt and began the slow process of pulling him up the side of the mountain. It was slow going. The underbrush was thick and Mulder was heavy. At some point it was clear that adrenalin had kicked in. Scully was determined to get her partner up the hill, and nothing was going to stop her.  
  
She had no idea how long it took to get back to the trail, but finally they made it. She laid the litter down carefully, moving back to check on her partner. He had passed out. She stifled a tear as she checked his pulse and respiration. Despite the trauma, they remained strong. Mulder stirred and opened his eyes.  
  
"Hey, we made it," he said weakly.  
  
"Yeah, all the way up the hill. Are you in much pain? You passed out on me," she asked.  
  
"No, not so bad," he responded.  
  
"Liar," she retorted, reaching down to touch his forehead. "At least you don't seem to be running a fever. I'm going to rest for a little bit, but then we need to get moving. The hut is still aways and I don't want to move while it's dark."  
  
Scully lay down next to Mulder. She shivered slightly as the temperature continued to drop. The sweatshirt she had worn earlier under her jacket was now draped across Mulder in an attempt to keep him warm. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. The images of the day kept swimming in front of her eyes, first Del and Beau, then Mulder at the bottom of the hill. She shook her head trying to clear her mind so she could sleep.  
  
"Scully," Mulder called softly into the darkness.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"It's going to be okay."  
  
Scully laughed slightly.  
  
"Why are you laughing?" he asked.  
  
"Well, because we're in the middle on nowhere, you're badly injured, I'm probably killing you just trying to get you out of here and at any minute the two crazy lunatics who started this mess could find us and kill us," she responded.  
  
"Well, that puts a damper on the beautiful night under the stars," he answered. "Besides, I told you, I think I killed one of them."  
  
Scully sat up and looked at him, his face illuminated by the full moon overhead. "You are beyond help, Mulder. We're seriously in trouble here and you keep cracking jokes."  
  
"I don't think wringing our hands is going to help us get out of this, Scully. So, if I want to crack a joke, I think I'm allowed. We're going to get out of this. We haven't gone through everything we've gone through to die here, like this. I refuse to believe it."  
  
Scully reached over and took his hand. No other words were necessary.  
  
Shenandoah National Forest  
7:23 a.m.  
  
Mulder awoke the next morning. He quickly made a system-wide check of his body. A slight ache where the bullet had grazed his arm, dull, but steady pain in his lower back and then nothing. He quickly moved his mind past it. He would deal with it all later. Despite her warnings, he turned his head slightly to look for Scully. She seemed to have disappeared. He turned his head back and lie there waiting. The silence was excruciating. Why would this be happening? He had fought so hard for so many things and  
now he was stuck out here, probably crippled for life and for what? To find a bomber? To get his old job back? Not only had he hurt himself, but he had hurt Scully, and in many ways that was the worst part of it all.  
  
The sounds of someone on the path broke into his self-loathing.  
  
"Hey, I found a friend for us," he heard Scully say. He wanted to turn his head and see who she was talking about, but he knew she would not approve of that movement.  
  
Scully walked over into Mulder's line of vision. Next to her was a gray-haired man. He looked like he was in his late 60s, early 70s. He was dressed warmly, with hiking boots and a walking stick.  
  
"If you tell me your name is Jed, it's all over," Mulder said, looking from his partner to the stranger.  
  
"You said he was smart, but I had no idea he would know my name," the man answered.  
  
At the look on Mulder's face, Scully was unable to answer, the laughter that she needed so badly made it impossible for her to speak.  
  
"Actually, the name is Dick Tucker. My friend, Jack and I hike here on the weekend. We live down the mountain in Madison," the man responded.  
  
"So, how are we going to get out of here?" Mulder asked, looking carefully at the stranger.  
  
"Well, my wife makes me carry a cellular phone for emergencies. Jack has a bad back, so we sent him back to the car where he should be able to get a signal. I was telling Miss Scully here that we should try to get you back to the hike hut so search and rescue can find us and get you out of here."  
  
"Sounds good to me," Mulder responded putting his hand up. Scully grabbed it in silent affirmation. "I'd just as soon get home as soon as possible. I hate to miss 'That 70s Show.' That Fox network has really improved their Sunday night programming."  
  
Scully and Dick laughed at Mulder's attempt at lightening the mood. They all knew it might be a very long time before Mulder sat down to a Sunday night of television.  
  
The forest was too thick to bring in a vehicle to carry Mulder out, so Dick helped Scully with the litter. After about an hour of walking they came into a clearing. Another gray-haired man dressed similarly to Mr. Tucker was waiting for them.  
  
"I got through to search and rescue. They should get here in an hour or so. They'll chopper you out of here to Charlottesville. The University hospital is a good one. They should be able to put things back together," the man who Mulder assumed was Jack said.  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure they will," Mulder responded in a self-effacing tone. Scully put her hand on his shoulder, but he remained unresponsive. He was getting tired and it was harder to keep up a strong front for his partner.  
  
"It's going to be okay, Mulder," she said as she squatted down next to him. If she just kept saying it, maybe she would start to believe it herself. They sat quietly until the sky filled with the sound of the helicopter coming to airlift them out.  
  
November 8, 1998  
University of Virginia Hospital  
Charlottesville, VA  
6:47 p.m.  
  
"Dana!" Maggie Scully called as she walked into the cubicle to find her daughter, dirty and tired, but fine for the most part. The only injuries she had suffered in their ordeal were not visible from the outside.  
  
"Oh Mom," the red-haired woman said, pulling her mother close into an embrace. She had held it together while they waited for search and rescue and during the flight to the hospital, but now with her mother there she couldn't help it. The tears began to flow freely.  
  
"What happened, baby?" her mother asked, pulling away slightly. She reached up to brush the tears from her daughter's face.  
  
"It got all screwed up. I thought he wanted to go camping, but he was hunting. He fell down the hill. . . ." Her voice trailed off. It was too difficult to go back over that rough terrain.  
  
"Honey, you aren't making any sense. When they called, they said you had been taken hostage and Fox was hurt. Who hurt him?"  
  
Scully was unable to answer. Instead the tears began to flow again. She hung her head, unable to look up at her mother. Maggie Scully reached under the auburn hair and raised Dana's face up to hers.  
  
"I did it. I hurt him."  
  
Maggie tried to get a more coherent answer out of her daughter, but the exhaustion and stress had brought her to the edge of a breakdown.  
  
Maggie walked into the hallway. She had convinced Dana and the doctor that a night of observation might be in order. Although there hadn't been any physical injuries, Dana had nearly been hysterical with her guilt about Mulder's injuries. The doctor had admitted her overnight and after a light sedative Dana had finally fallen asleep. Fox was still in surgery, but the doctor had said he would let Maggie know as soon as they were done. The initial report was not very encouraging. There had been nothing else  
Scully could do, but her actions had probably caused further damage to her partner. The injury was in his mid-thoracic region and would almost definitely cause permanent paralysis. No one was able to say it, but they all understood what had happened.  
  
She sat in the chair when a familiar figure turned into the hall. She looked up, thankful for the support he would potentially offer.  
  
"Assistant Director Skinner, it's good to see you again," she said as he approached her.  
  
"Have you heard anything about Agent Mulder?" he asked as he sat next to her. "How is your daughter?"  
  
"Dana's okay, a little shook-up; they're keeping her sedated tonight. She was pretty upset. Fox is much worse. I don't understand exactly what happened, but there was some kind of accident. He has a spinal injury. They aren't very hopeful."  
  
Skinner took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I was afraid it might be bad when they said they had been airlifted out. Have you talked to the doctor?"  
  
"No, he's still in surgery. They'll come up here when they finish. Do you have any idea why they were out there?" Mrs. Scully asked.  
  
"I think I have a clue," Skinner responded. "I found the latest bulletin about William Delton on Mulder's desk. He was last seen in that region."  
  
"Delton? Isn't he the one they think has been doing those bombings? Why would they go after such a dangerous man by themselves?"  
  
"That's something we'll have to ask Scully or Mulder, but considering the results I think we can wait for that. I've got a team of men going through that area right now. If what Scully said was true and I'm sure it is, we'll find them," the assistant director responded. Despite her concern for her partner, Scully had managed to make a statement about their experience with the two survivalists and Mulder's suspicion that at least one of them was dead.  
  
"Excuse me, are you the parties responsible for Fox Mulder?" the doctor asked. Skinner and Mrs. Scully had been so intent in their conversation they hadn't noticed the young man in scrubs walk up to them.   
  
"Yes, I'm Walter Skinner. I'm Special Agent Mulder's supervisor," he responded pulling out his identification. The doctor gave it a cursory glance. "This is Maggie Scully, Agent . . . a close friend of Agent Mulder's." The doctor nodded at Mrs. Scully.  
  
"The surgery went as well as can be expected, but the situation is not that great. We were able to stabilize the area of the spinal fracture, but there was significant damage to the cord. I would hold very little hope of Special Agent Mulder recovering any movement below the area of the injury. We're also a bit concerned by his kidney function or, rather, lack of it. We have him on dialysis, but hopefully his kidneys will begin to function normally."  
  
"Why is that happening?" Mrs. Scully asked.  
  
"The extended period before the special agent was able to reach the hospital was detrimental. His bladder and kidney function were compromised by the injury. As far as I understand the situation, this was unavoidable, but we do have to watch him very carefully. If you'll excuse me, I need to go back to the recovery room and check on him," the doctor said as he got up from his chair. He shook Mrs. Scully and Skinner's hands as he left.  
  
"That's another thing," Mrs. Scully said.  
  
"Another what?" Skinner asked.  
  
"Dana will blame herself. She already blames herself for his injury, but this may be too much for her to handle."  
  
"What about his mother?" Skinner asked.  
  
"I wanted to wait until we knew more before I called her. I suppose I should go do that now."  
  
Skinner stood up and held his hand out to her. "I'll take care of that. You go sit with Dana. I'll find you after I talk to her." Mrs. Scully nodded and walked back to the room where her daughter lay sleeping, finally.  
  
November 9, 1998  
University of Virginia Hospital  
Charlottesville, VA  
10:17 a.m.  
  
Scully sat quietly in the chair next to Mulder's bed. The nurse had extubated him earlier and he was now breathing on his own. He hadn't awakened yet, but it was just a matter of time. They had sedated him fairly heavily. His kidney function had returned to normal so they wouldn't have to do any further dialysis.  
  
She looked up as she heard a sound. Mulder was stirring in his bed. He opened his eyes, slowly focusing on Scully's face.  
  
"Hey," he said, his voice hoarse from the anesthesia and intubation tube.  
  
"Hey there, yourself," she responded, reaching over to brush the hair from his forehead.  
  
"So, what's the score?" he asked, now fully awake and looking at her intently.  
  
"What score?" she asked in response, her hand now pulled away from his head.  
  
"The damage, the final diagnosis," he said in a measured tone.  
  
Scully reached up for his hand. He grabbed it solidly.  
  
"Scully, I need to hear what's going on, and I would rather hear it from you than from some stranger."  
  
"Please don't make me do this, Mulder," she said, her eyes now filling with tears.  
   
"You have to, you owe me that much," he responded. She reached up and brushed away the moisture. She drew in a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak the truth they both needed to hear.  
  
"There was a fracture at the T-10 level. They did a spinal fusion last night to stabilize the fracture area. They put screws and pins in to hold it all in place. There was some kidney damage, they had you on dialysis last night; but they have started to function again." Somehow Scully had managed to hold her emotions in check while delivering her partner's prognosis.  
  
"So, T-10. What does that mean? Is this permanent?" he asked, his eyes pleading for her to not tell him what he knew had to be true.  
  
Her head had dropped as he spoke. When she looked up, her eyes had filled with tears. She put her hand up to wipe the tears away, sniffing her nose.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Mulder," she said, the tears now flowing freely. She dropped his hand and rushed from the room.  
  
November 11, 1998  
University of Virginia Hospital  
Charlottesville, VA  
9:25 a.m.  
  
"Hey, how are you doing?" Scully asked as she walked into her partner's view. He was recovering from the surgery well, but he had yet to raise the head of the bed more than a few degrees.  
  
"Pretty good," he responded. "I waited for you to come yesterday, but Skinner said you were busy with a deposition. I guess they'll come here since I don't seem to be leaving any time soon."  
  
Scully merely nodded and then sat next to the bed. Mulder carefully turned his neck until he could see her again.  
  
"So, the physical therapist came in today. Target date for Fox Mulder's release back into society . . . February 1999. I'm glad I didn't book that New Years' cruise to the Bahamas," Mulder said. Scully looked up sharply. The bitter tone of his voice caught her off guard. He continued without seeming to notice her body language.  
  
"Yeah, stuck in some nursing home place for months, pissing in a bag. Did I mention the pissing in a bag? 'Of course, now Mr. Mulder, if you work hard, we can get your bowel and bladder on a schedule.' What the hell is that? I'm some kind of baby, I need to piss and shit on a schedule?"  
  
He stopped to notice that Scully was crying, again. He hadn't often seen her emotional and now he had reduced her to tears twice in as many visits. How could he have been so insensitive? He had been concerned with his own situation, and justifiably, but he should have been more sensitive to the trauma she had suffered as well. Their experience had left them both with scars, his physical and hers emotional. They would both need a great deal of time to recover.  
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . . " his voice trailing off, his eyes conveying the same concern his voice did.  
  
"Don't worry about me, Mulder. You should think about yourself and getting better. I'll be back, but I need to make some calls." Before he could answer she had exited the room. He lay for several moments until he heard the door open and footsteps enter.  
  
"Dana?" he asked.  
  
"No, Fox. It's me, Maggie Scully," Dana's mom said as she pulled up the chair her daughter had recently vacated.  
  
"Mrs. Scully, did you see Dana? Where did she go?" he asked in a worried tone.  
  
"She was worried about how she might react, so she asked me to come with her. She's upset, Fox. She'll come back in when she is able."  
  
"What do you mean? Did something happen to her?" he asked, becoming agitated. The heart monitor indicated the increase in his rate caused by his anxiety.  
  
"Please, relax. I don't want you to worry," Mrs. Scully said, brushing her hand across his forehead, attempting to ease his pain. "The deposition was hard. She basically had to relive the incident and talking about your escape brought some issues to the surface."  
  
"Issues?" he asked.  
  
"I think you should discuss this with Dana," her mother answered. She looked up as the door moved open. Without being able to look, he could sense that it was his partner. Mrs. Scully leaned over and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "Be well, Fox. I'll see you again soon."  
  
After Mrs. Scully left the room it remained silent. Scully made no move to come closer to the bed and Mulder didn't say a word. After a seemingly endless two minutes he cleared his throat.  
  
"Is this some kind of observation, or are we going to talk about what's going on?" he asked.  
  
"I'm trying. It's just . . . it's hard. Give me a minute," she responded as she walked over to the chair and again took a seat.  
  
"What's so hard, Scully?" he asked.  
  
"Mulder, the deposition just made me realize that we can't do this anymore. I'm sorry to leave you now, but it's the only thing to do."  
  
He lay silent, looking her straight in the eye, trying to assess where she had come up with the unreasonable demand. After a moment she looked away, staring at the floor next to her chair.  
  
"Leave? Are you out of your mind? Have I done something? Is this about keeping you in the dark? Ditching you? What else? Do you want more visibility? Your name on the door? Name it; it's done. You can't leave. Not now," he responded, almost pleading at the end.  
  
"Not after what I've done," she said, pulling her eyes back to his face.  
  
"What have you done?" he asked. "I was there, too, and what I remember is us on a camping trip that I arranged, two criminals kidnapping us and then you saving my life. I guess I'm confused about the sin against humanity you seem to think you committed."  
  
"This," she said, waving her hands over his unmoving body. "I did this. I pulled you up that mountain without proper precautions and now here you are. If I hadn't been there, you wouldn't have fallen down a mountain anyway. I did this. I ruined your life."  
  
Mulder turned his head so he was looking straight up at the ceiling. He remained silent for a moment. So that was it, she felt guilty. He couldn't let her feel guilty, not for this.  
  
"So you dragged me up a mountain and for this you ruined your life and mine? God Scully, it was my fault we were out there at all! It seems to me that if you hadn't pulled me out of there I would be dead. I don't blame you for this, Scully," he said, his voice softening. "What happened to me, what happened to both of us was the work of two very sick men. If we hadn't gone when we did, those men would have raped you and then they would have killed us. I could never have allowed that to happen. This, this is  
little to pay for not allowing that to happen." He paused and cleared his throat. His voice had grown more choked with emotion as he talked. "I realized something as we were making our way through that forest. I love you Dana Scully. I've been an idiot for years. If this is what it takes for me to figure that out, then this situation in some twisted way seems worth it."  
  
Scully sat there and looked at him. She couldn't believe he was saying this. Not now.  
  
"Don't say those things, Mulder. We'll discuss this when you're better. Until then I don't think either one of us should make any strong pronouncements." She hoped he wouldn't take it the wrong way, but this was a very intense time for both of them. It wasn't the time to make any sudden commitments or dramatic changes in their relationship. She looked at Mulder. He seemed to be considering her comment.  
  
"Okay, for now, but I'm not going to change my mind," he said, looking at her very intently. She nodded slowly. She sat by his bed holding his hand until he fell asleep. Being in the hospital, unable to move, was terrifying, but with her hand in his it wasn't quite so bad.  
  
November 16, 1998  
University of Virginia Hospital  
Charlottesville, VA  
1:24 p.m.  
  
"So are you ready to rock and roll," Scully asked as she walked into Mulder's room. His eyes trained on the bag in her hands.  
  
"What's the present, Agent Scully?" he asked, smiling at her.  
  
"Well, we can't have you riding home with your buns hanging out, can we?" she asked. Mulder was being released from the hospital that afternoon. He was stable enough after the surgery to be transported back to Washington. He would have to spend a few more days in the hospital there before he was discharged to rehab.  
  
"What?" he asked, his eyes wide.  
  
"I don't know if you remember, but they cut all of your clothes off of you. I had to get you some new ones," Scully answered, reaching into the bag and withdrawing a matched set of UVA sweats.  
  
"You have got to be kidding," Mulder said, his voice filled with mock horror.  
  
"Give me a break, Mulder. The nurse pointed out you needed some clothes and I sure wasn't going to schlep down to Walmart to get you something to wear in the ambulance. The bookstore was close so I got what they had."  
  
"Please tell me there isn't an NCAA approved pair of boxers in there," Mulder responded. Scully pulled the plaid undergarments out with a smile. She moved carefully as she untied the hospital gown and folded it back. She carefully pulled the IV bag through the gown's sleeve and the back out the arm of the sweatshirt.  
  
"Here, lean forward a little bit," she said, supporting his back and neck as he put his head through the neck of the shirt. She followed through with the other arm. She began to pull the sheets back when Mulder's hand grabbed hers.  
  
"I don't know about that one, Doc. Isn't there an orderly or something that can help us with that?" he asked, unwilling to expose the last bit of his privacy to Scully.  
  
She looked momentarily stunned and then nodded and left the room without a word. The orderly entered shortly.  
  
"So are you ready to go?" the orderly asked Mulder, who nodded. The orderly pulled down the sheets as Scully had earlier. He laid out a plastic pouch on the bed.  
  
"What's that?" Mulder asked, pointing to the bag.  
  
"It's a leg bag. We'll attach it to your catheter for the trip. Once you get to Georgetown they'll start the bladder training. I just need to get you there high and dry." He moved quickly, attaching the appliance, pulling the boxers on and then the sweat pants. He patted Mulder's unfeeling leg and left the room.  
  
Mulder lay back against the bed and sighed. Thank god he had gotten rid of Scully. This was in fact, too much. How would he ever regain any dignity? People turning him over like overdone pancakes, sticking tubes into every hole in his body, exposing the most private parts of his existence; it was beyond humbling. It was downright humiliating.  
  
November 19, 1998  
Northeast Georgetown Memorial Hospital  
Washington, D.C.  
2:35 p.m.  
  
Scully hurried down the hallway toward Mulder's room. She had gotten held up with an autopsy, and traffic back from Quantico had been a bear. No matter what time of day there always seemed to be traffic backed up on the bridge over the Occoquon River. She walked into the room just as the doctor started talking. As she walked in, he stopped and looked at her expectantly.  
  
"Dr. Wheeler, this is my partner, Dana Scully," Mulder said by way of introduction. The doctor looked at her again, this time with interest. They shook hands and exchanged greetings.  
  
"Well, Ms. Scully, as I was telling Mr. Mulder, we are planning to discharge him to rehab. The longer he spends in bed now, the longer it's going to take him in physical therapy." The doctor addressed Mulder once again. "As it is, we've had you flat on your back long enough. The surgical site has healed and the vertebrae are stable. We need to get you up and working," the doctor said.  
  
"How long do you expect the rehab process to take?" Scully asked.  
  
"It's hard to say, Ms. Scully." He turned back from Scully to Mulder. " A lot of that depends on you, Mr. Mulder. We'll have you working with physical and occupational therapists. We'll also assign you a case manager to help with the transition. What is your living situation?" he asked, looking expectantly between Scully and Mulder. Scully laughed.  
  
"No, we're not that kind of partners. We work together. At the FBI," she said, shaking her head. Mulder was chuckling as well.  
  
"Oh, I understand. Sorry about that," the doctor responded, his face reddening slightly.  
  
"Don't worry about it, Doc. I have an apartment in Alexandria. I live there alone," Mulder said.  
  
"Accessible?" the doctor asked.  
  
"No, not at all," Scully answered, moving closer to the bed.  
  
"It has an elevator; it'll work," Mulder retorted.  
  
"Mulder, be reasonable. Yes, there's an elevator once you get into the building, but there have to be at least 10 steps in front. Besides, you'll never get in and out of that bathroom with your chair let alone getting anything done in that kitchen."  
  
"You know I don't use the kitchen," Mulder answered with a laugh.  
  
"I realize that, but it isn't going to work. You'll need an actual bedroom with a bed and other things. You need to find a new place."  
  
They discussed it until Scully had to leave. They finally decided that she would look for an accessible apartment close to his old neighborhood. Mulder felt comfortable there and it was close enough to the King Street Metro stop that he could use that transportation until he began driving again. That decided, Scully got up to leave.  
  
"Hey, Scully," Mulder called out to her. She turned back to him. "Can we talk for a minute?"  
  
"I'd love to, Mulder, but I left a pile of paperwork on my desk and I have to stop at Hoover and talk to Skinner." She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow. We'll talk then."  
  
He opened his mouth to respond, but she walked out of the room. She would be back the next day, but he held little hope that she would talk then either. No matter how he tried, she wouldn't engage him in a conversation about what was happening. This experience was so overwhelming and she was the only person he could share it with. Unfortunately, she seemed incapable of dealing with what had happened.  
  
December 27, 1998  
National Rehabilitation Hospital  
Washington, D.C.  
7:25 p.m.  
  
Christmas had been depressing. Awful. Worse than any Mulder could remember. His mother had come from Connecticut. He could tell that she was trying to be brave or something, but it wasn't really in her nature. She had relied on him for years and hadn't really stepped up to the challenge of offering any moral support for her son. She had tried, but in the end they both felt bad.  
  
Mulder was slowly regaining some of his independence. The initial frustration and bitterness he had experienced had given way to a determination to take control of his life. He worked hard on strengthening the muscles he still had control of so they could compensate for the ones now lost to him. He had no feeling or movement from his waist down. Like the doctor had predicted in November, he was able to control his bladder and bowel with training and medication. He had been fortunate that his injury had been low enough that he still had use of his arms and hands. He was able to move himself in and out of bed, into his chair or a car as necessary.  
  
He had received a lightweight wheelchair at the beginning of the month. Frohike had even complained when he came over to set up Mulder's laptop that Mulder moved too quickly now. The increased independence was good for Mulder's spirits, but they weren't enough to counteract the depression he felt over the change in his relationship with Scully.  
  
She was still a part of his life, but she had removed so much of the relationship he had come to value and count on. She came nearly every day, did whatever he asked as far as getting things he needed like socks, boxer shorts, even reading material once in a while, but she never offered any emotional support.  
  
He wasn't sure what had caused the change. At first things were so strange and new he didn't notice anything. By the time he had been transferred back to Northeast Georgetown the change had taken place. He replayed the conversation they had with Dr. Wheeler about his apartment. It had happened then. She was all business.  
  
She hadn't come for Christmas. She had gone to California with her mother. She had asked him if he minded and he didn't have the heart to ask her to stay. Instead he had made an excuse about his mother coming to visit and sent her on her way. It had been a mistake. He had known that the minute she turned to leave. He wanted to call after her, but he couldn't.  
  
He reached up for the chair next to his bed. Using his newly developed upper arm muscles, he lifted himself from the bed onto the padded seat of the wheelchair. He heard someone clearing her throat at the door and looked up. Scully had been standing at the door.  
  
"Are you still accepting presents?" Scully asked, walking into the room with a small box under her arm.  
  
"Sure," Mulder said, flashing her a big grin. He adjusted himself in the chair. He had to lift himself up every once in a while to help his circulation.  
  
Scully pulled up a chair and sat next to him. She handed him the box without a word. He took it and pulled the wrapping off.  
  
"So, did you have a good time in San Diego?" he asked, as he pulled the lid off.  
  
"Yeah, Matthew has grown up so much this year. Tara asked about you."  
  
"And Bill?"  
  
"Well, you know he just tries to ignore the fact that you exist."  
  
"Nice Scully, I'm spending the holidays in a residential facility and you share family insults with me."  
  
She laughed and he smiled. It was the first time he had heard her laugh in almost two months, not since the last night they spent in the forest. The present lay forgotten in his lap.  
  
"Hey, don't you even want to see what I carried all the way across the country?" Scully asked, motioning to the box.  
  
He pulled out a T-shirt. It was from the San Diego zoo, covered with monkeys.  
  
"Very nice," Mulder said, holding it up to him.  
  
"The people in P.T. told me they were sick of seeing you in that ratty Knicks T-shirt. You need to wash it more frequently, Mulder. You stink! I just thought with more selection maybe we could take care of that problem."  
  
"Hey, it's my lucky shirt! How am I supposed to get better and get out of this place if I don't have my lucky shirt on?"  
  
She laughed. Again he thought how good it was to hear her laughing again. It had been too long. Now was his chance, maybe finally they could have the conversation he knew they had to have.  
  
"Hey, Scully," he said, his tone turning more serious. "Remember that woman we met last spring, in Delaware, Marty Glenn?"  
  
"The blind woman?" she responded. Mulder nodded. He looked down, flexing his hands.  
  
"She worked so hard to not be controlled by her disability. I guess that's what I have to do. There are people here who refer to themselves as quads or paras. I don't want to be a para. I may not be able to use my legs, technically defined as paraplegia, but first of all I am a man. I need to figure out how to maintain some kind of life for myself."  
  
"I think that's good. I think we both need to get to that point." She stood up and ran her hand over his head. "Merry Christmas, Mulder."  
  
He watched as she turned and left the room. It was a beginning. They had gotten a lot further, maybe almost back to where they were in November. There just seemed to still be a gulf between them and he wasn't sure how to get rid of it. He would simply have to try again.  
  
January 27, 1999  
Dana Scully's residence  
Georgetown  
11:30 p.m.  
  
Scully heard the knock at the door. She looked down at her watch. 11:30 p.m., a little late for anyone she knew. She walked across to the door, picking up her service revolver from the table near the door.  
  
"Who is it?" she called softly, moving to the door carefully. She peered out the peephole, but didn't see anyone. The tapping came again, but it was lower than she might expect.  
  
"It's me, open up," she heard a familiar voice. She released the dead bolt to reveal Mulder. She still hadn't gotten used to seeing him in a wheelchair. She didn't know if she ever would.  
  
"God, Mulder. What are you doing here at this time of night? How did you even get here?" she asked.  
  
"I was lying in bed tonight mulling it all over in my mind and I decided we needed to get a few things out in the open," he said, rolling past her into the apartment. She followed him into the living room where he carefully transferred to the couch.  
  
"Well, it must have been quite a conversation for you to get out of bed and figure out how to get here at this time of night," she said in a tired tone as she sat next to him. Not thinking about it was the only way she kept going every day. She did not relish the thought of going over this territory here, now, with him.  
  
"It wasn't that difficult. You live in Georgetown, not the Outback. I called a cab. It's a trip across town. With a tip it barely cost me ten bucks."  
  
"So, you made a big cab ride. What do you want, Mulder? It's late, and I'm tired."  
  
"That's bull shit, Scully and you know it. The truth is we have never talked about it and I'm not sure we can go any further without talking about it."  
  
"About what? What are you so damned set on us talking about?" she asked.  
  
"About the accident. About why we were in the mountains, how I got hurt, how I got out of there, how we got out of there."  
  
Scully didn't say anything. She looked down at the floor. Mulder reached over for her hand. He held it for a moment and then she pulled it away. She moved further into the corner of the couch.  
  
"You didn't do this," Mulder said quietly.  
  
"What do you mean?" she responded, turning to look at him.  
  
"You didn't put me here. An accident did. You have to let this go."  
  
"Mulder, I really don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Yes, you do. You come to the hospital, you sit there and you look like Dana Scully, but that's about as far as it goes. You aren't telling me how you feel, what is making you so cold, unresponsive. Tell me what is bothering you!"  
  
"Nothing, Mulder. Nothing is bothering me," she answered.  
  
He wasn't going to let it go, not tonight. It had been building in the months since their fateful trip into the mountains. He knew she was upset and it was starting to wear on her. He could see how the lines had deepened in her face, how thin she had gotten and he couldn't remember the last time she had genuinely smiled. Sure, she put on a good front every day at the rehab hospital, but things were far from right.  
  
"So what is it? Guilt? Do you feel guilty?" he asked.  
  
She looked down at the floor for a moment and then slowly moved her head back up and fixed her eyes on her partner.  
  
"It's not guilt. I'm mad," she answered quietly.  
  
"Mad?" He was surprised. That wasn't what he expected to hear from her.  
  
"Yeah, Mulder. I'm mad. What the hell were you doing dragging me out there, under false pretenses? We both could have been killed. Look what's happened to us and you still don't have your precious X-files back. I guess the whole damn thing blew up in your face," she said, her voice thick with venom.  
  
"Good, let it out," he responded, reaching for her hand. She snatched it away.  
  
"No! I'm not in the mood for your psychoanalyzing. Dammit Mulder, don't pull your shrink shit on me! You asked how I was feeling and I'm telling you. I will not have you try to explain it away."  
  
He knew this could all explode, but he had not been prepared for Scully's reaction. He reached again for her hand and held it firmly this time.  
  
"Dana, you are not to blame for this anymore than I am."  
  
"That's fine and well for you to say, Agent Mulder, but I'm the one that's living with this. Do you understand how heavy this weight is on my heart? I can't look at you without remembering again about how we got here. It's as if I threw you down that mountain myself."   
  
Mulder looked at his friend, his own heart breaking. How could she have been feeling this way over the past months? She had been there at every turn, helping him in therapy, finding him a new apartment, moving his things. She had been his rock. He wouldn't have made it this far without her.  
  
"You've felt this way, the whole time?" he asked.  
  
She nodded and then looked at the floor. They each sat quietly for a moment and then Mulder reached for her face, taking her chin in his face and raising her eyes to his.  
  
"I'm only going to say this once and I want you to listen. You did not do this. This is not your fault. I've lain in my bed many nights and tried to figure out how I got here and the rationale for it all. And you know what I've come up with? Nothing. Not a damn thing. And you know why?"  
  
Scully just looked at him, silent.  
  
"It was an accident, Scully. That's it. It's shattered both of our lives, but we had no control over this. The fact is, I need you. I needed you that night and I need you tonight. You are the single most important thing in my life and I need you to be a part of that. Please say that you will," Mulder said, his voice pleading at the end.  
  
Scully got up and walked over to the window. Mulder watched her for a moment and then transferred back into his chair. He moved over to where she was standing.  
  
"Please," he said, reaching out for her hand. His plea was so simple, yet it drove straight to the depths of her soul, a soul that had been shattered into so many pieces she didn't think it could ever be put back together.  
  
She turned to look at him. Her eyes were filled with tears. She dropped down to her knees so she could look at him straight in the eyes.  
  
"I did this. I can never get rid of that," she said, the tears now spilling out of her eyes and down her cheeks. He reached up and wiped the tears away.  
  
"We can't go down that road. We'll never get back. Think about the things that have happened to us. We've never kept a tally of our insults, our injuries, real or imagined. If we did that, I would lose every time. I've hurt you in so many ways, Scully but I have to hope that you forgive me for those sins. If you didn't, if you didn't love me the way I love you, I don't think I could continue."  
  
Scully looked at him. He had said the things they both knew. They loved each other. They had said as much on several occasions, but this was different. She didn't blame him for the things that had happened, her cancer, Melissa, Emily. She couldn't. She loved him. Why couldn't she accept that love for herself?  
  
"I do. I love you," she said quietly. She stood up and turned to the window. Her back remained to him as he spoke.  
  
"You know what I miss?" he asked. "Being tall. I mean, I know I can be vain, but I never knew how much I enjoyed being tall. It's a totally different perspective down here. So much that I do has changed, but that's the one thing I can't get used to."  
  
She turned to look at him.  
  
"Do you understand that at all?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, I think I do," she responded, her face softening. "Emily. I guess I just never knew how much I wanted that child until she was here. I still . . . I still can't believe that she was here, that she's gone."  
  
"We've lost things, Scully. We've lost things that are terribly important to us. I may never find out what happened to Samantha. I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with that on my own. I can't do it without you. Please say you will be there with me."  
  
They sat staring at one another for what seemed like an eternity, then she moved toward him. She held out her hand and led the way into her bedroom. Without a word she sat on the bed. Mulder looked at her for a moment, then carefully moved himself next to her on the mattress.  
  
Scully carefully unbuttoned his shirt. She ran her fingers down the cloth and into the hair on his chest. During therapy his upper body muscle had become even more pronounced. Her hands moved lower to his torso and then to the button on his pants. His hand stopped her.  
  
"Don't," he said, quietly pulling her hand to his mouth and kissing it lightly. She shook her head  
  
"I know what to expect. I just want to see you, all of you. Let me love you, Mulder," she pleaded gently. She pulled her hand from his and moved back to the now loosened button. She finished the task and moved to the zipper. She carefully pulled it down and then eased the pants from his lower body. He reached for her zipper, helping her out of her clothes.  
  
They lay next to one another silently, gazing at their now naked bodies. She again noted the firmness of his torso and chest. Her eyes trailed down to his motionless legs. They were thinner but had retained some of their shape. Muscle spasms were sometimes embarrassing, but they helped his legs stay toned. Her eyes moved back up to his where she knew he had been watching her survey.  
  
"Is it what you expected?" he asked.  
  
"Well, I always knew you had big hands," she teased. He laughed. How had Scully known just the thing to break the heavily-charged moment?  
  
"Actually all the girls at the academy called you the "Penis of Death," she teased, kissing him first on the lips, then on the chest, nuzzling his shoulders.  
  
"Well, I guess we'll have to change that to the "Dead Penis," Mulder answered. She wasn't sure if he was joking or not, but there was a smile on his face and if she dare say it, a little movement down below. She knew it had to be her imagination, but if it was an involuntary movement, it had incredible timing.  
  
She rolled on top of him and gently kissed his shoulders. She slowly moved down his body, probing each area with her tongue. As she sucked on his nipples, they became hard. The decreased areas of sensation made other parts of his anatomy more responsive to her touch.  
  
Fox reached up and ran his hands through her auburn hair. He pulled her head down to his and kissed her. First gently, then with more intensity, probing the interior of her mouth with his tongue. She sat with her legs on either side of him, now his hands traveling her body, first on her arms, then her breasts, her lower back and onto her buttocks. The gentle rubbing motion was as erotic and stimulating as any other lover had been before. She wanted to make love to him. She felt the pressure inside growing until finally she climaxed. His hands had returned to her breasts, each growing hard with pleasure. She shouted out as she reached the orgasm. She looked into his eyes and saw the smile. When it had passed, she rolled off of him and lay by his side.  
  
"So, it was good?" he asked, rolling onto his side so he could see her.  
  
"Very good," she responded. "But, what about you?"  
  
"There is a certain pleasure in seeing the person you love succeed, even if you can't," he responded. She lay there silent, again grieving for what they had lost.  
  
"C'mon. Don't do that. This will only work as long as there are no regrets," he said, leaning over to kiss her.  
  
"I know. It's just that I want you to have what I have, to share my joy," she said, pulling away from the kiss.  
  
"Seeing you happy, that's enough for me," he answered, pulling her once again tight against his body. "You know what we're doing here?"  
  
"I think what we're doing, no matter how unconventional, is pretty self-apparent," she responded.  
  
"No, we're finally taking that last step. Or maybe we're taking the first step. But whichever it is, here and now, we're finally picking up the pieces," Mulder said, putting his hand on her face, cupping it in his palm.  
  
"What pieces?" she asked.  
  
"The pieces of our lives. For as much as my body was shattered in that accident, your spirit was as well. Somehow, we've got to get that back. It doesn't matter what we look like, if I walk, even if we ever have the X-files again. What this has taught me is that I don't want to lose you, not now, not ever."  
  
"So now I guess the time is right," Scully said, looking at him intently, running her hand down his chest.  
  
"Right for what?" he asked, pulling her hand back up to his mouth and kissing it softly.  
  
"When you were in the hospital, in Virginia you tried to tell me how you felt and I said it wasn't the right time. I think maybe we have finally gotten to that point," she said.  
  
"Are you sure?" he asked.  
  
"I couldn't tell you then, but now, I feel like I can tell the whole world. I love you, Fox Mulder. No matter what happens from now on, I know that we can face it together."  
  
Epilogue  
January 22, 2000  
St. Aloysius Church  
Washington, D.C.  
  
"You're not supposed to see me before the ceremony," Dana Scully admonished her fiance. She was dressed in a beautiful cream-colored gown that set off her red hair and creamy white skin. Fox was dressed in a tuxedo, suitable for the occasion as well.  
  
"I needed to take care of something first," he said, his eyes twinkling. Byers stood near the door, obviously a partner in Mulder's plot. "Turn around." She looked at him with a questioning glance, he gestured for her to turn and she did.  
  
What could he be doing? What was Byers part in the plot? Her head filled with questions as there was the sound of movement, a grunt from Mulder, an 'easy now' from Byers. Finally she was requested to turn back to them.  
  
"What? But how?" she exclaimed. Mulder stood before her, erect at his former 6-foot self. He was leaning heavily on crutches and she now noticed the leg braces under his tuxedo pants. He wobbled slightly and Byers put out a hand.  
  
"It's my latest little project," he said, smiling at her. "I decided that we needed to have those things we missed, the things we never even knew were so important to us." She looked at him, her eyes filled with the question she couldn't yet ask.  
  
"I know it's not Emily, but maybe . . . " his voice trailed off as he held out a vial to her.  
  
"Mulder?" she asked, accepting the vial from his hand. She looked at it. "This is my name. What is this?"  
  
"They're eggs. They're your eggs. I made an appointment for us to see a fertility specialist as soon as we get back from Vancouver. If I can be tall again, you can be a mother."  
  
Scully turned away from him. The movement of her back indicated that she was crying.  
  
"Dana, don't do that. C'mon, come here. This isn't fair. I can't get to you, so I need you to come here," he said. She turned to him and walked into his arms. The crutches dropped from his arms as he embraced her. Byers slid unnoticed from the room. Mulder reached up and wiped the tears from her face. She smiled up at him.  
  
"It's been a long time since we've done this," she said.  
  
"Done what?"he asked.  
  
"You holding me like this, drying my tears. It feels good, Mulder."  
  
"So how do you think it'll feel when there's some big baby between us?" he asked.  
  
"Do really think it's possible?" she asked, pulling away to look at him with her typically skeptical glance.  
  
"Today, I feel like anything's possible," he said pulling her close again. "Let's go get married so we can spend the rest of our lives figuring the rest of this out."  
  
FIN

 

 


End file.
